


Treasure

by so_damn_Mishalicious



Series: Witchery AU goodness [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragon!Geralt, Established Relationship, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Inspired by The Witcher, Jaskier isn't taking shit from anyone, M/M, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Protectiveness, Sacrifice!Jaskier, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), no beta we die like witchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_damn_Mishalicious/pseuds/so_damn_Mishalicious
Summary: A bard and a dragon witcher walk into a bar. A fight ensues. Geralt just wants a calm evening for once.(Feat. feral!Jaskier and Dragon!Geralt)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witchery AU goodness [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686538
Comments: 45
Kudos: 646
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette, Witcher





	Treasure

**Author's Note:**

> I'm weak so here's another whim I acted upon.
> 
> Please mind my usual warning: strange grammar and errors originate from English not being my first language and my own sloppiness (duh). Also as I have not played the Witcher games or read the books yet, I know shit about geography and flora of places so I will probably make and mix up some of this stuff. This is not beta read and I own absolutely nothing - not the characters, the setting nor anything related to them.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated and brighten the writer's day ♥

"Say that to my face again?!"

Geralt sighs, setting down the spoon. They're not even half through their meals and there's already another ruckus starting up. He shoots a pointed look at Jaskier who is back on his feet, a snarl in place. His stool has fallen to the ground with the force the bard stood, drawing everyone's attention to the unusual pair. In his defense, it started with a drunken patron spouting overly loud insults about them, like they weren't just sitting a few feet away. 

The witcher had grown accustomed to that decades ago, it was just not worth the trouble. Fights mostly lead to hasty retreats out of the city to avoid any masses pelting them with stones or rotten vegetables. But Jaskier wasn't him and over time they traveled together he learned that the man wouldn't budge from any scramble they'd encounter, willingly throwing hands over petty stuff as long it taunted Geralt's reputation. Not even once the bard had intended to fight over someone insulting him or his performances, smiling that away or returning some cutting remarks. It warmed something inside Geralt's heart, a hidden pride in his companion glowing softly like a ember in the fire. 

Tonight though he was set on staying. The weather outside was nasty, heavy rain pouring from the sky like floods, soaking everyone and everything within seconds. They had been lucky to dodge that in the first place, his keen sense of smell warning him of the tempest to come. Icey cold winds had cut through their clothes for three days straight. It was about time they found safe shelter for the night and he was looking forward to a bath and a bed to rest on. 

"Jaskier, please..." looking up to the smaller man, still glaring daggers at their offender, the witcher tried to distract him from the very obvious plan to throw himself at the rude patron, "let him talk. He's not worth the effort."

A low groll leaves the bard's lips, sending a shiver down the witcher's spine but then he just huffs, nodding in resentment and picking up his chair again. Deep down Jaskier was even more of a feral ball of energy than the man he travelled with and it never ceased to amaze him. Nodding to himself as well, he hopes that this is all for tonight. Of course he was never granted such spoils.

"Yeah little lap dog, listen to your master and crawl to his feet," the man sneered, stinking of ale, dirt and shit, with a battered face not holding any kindness, "you better go back to your monster, before he's tearing out your throat for misbehaving. Being a witcher's bitch seems to fit you just right, I bet your already keening for his-". The man's shouts are disrupted by the tankard hitting him square in the face, thrown with an aim Geralt is genuinely impressed by. Jaskier had trained himself in the handling of blades, which also includes throwing them but his prowess is better than expected. Not to mention the brunette is on the man in a lightning-fast motion, clawing at his face while he curses heavily. So much for a quiet evening.

Chugging down another big gulp of his own ale, Geralt silently squares himself to intervene. He knows in his fury the other will hold himself just fine but there's no need to let this escalate. Feeling like he's either growing too old to handle this nonsense or his patience is just running thin, he gets up too. Few steps suffice to cover the distance between their table and the brawl and he stops another man from getting involved, a blade in hand, ready to be lodged in the unsuspecting bard's back. His iron tight grip on the wrist makes the man cry out in pain and the knife falls from his hand. A deep, completely inhuman growl tears from his throat as the witcher's bulk seems to overshadow everyone in the room, his eyes glowing like molten gold in the shine of fire.

" _Run or I tear_ **_your_ ** _throat out, right in front of everyone's eyes."_

He wouldn't. But the threat lodges itself deep into their offenders' minds and they scramble to leave the room, stumbling over each other. His magic edged into the spoken words will ensure they won't return. The room's silence is deafening, no one daring to move. Everyone but the bard reeks of fear and he's sure at least one guest pissed himself. His companion is petulant enough to cross his arms in front of his chest, pouting. "I could have handled that myself.". A little blood is sticking to his nose and knuckles.

Geralt grunts in response. He knows that. But the impending danger and the glint of the blade woke the protective side of his being that would tear this village apart if they were to hurt his friend. Returning to their table he scoops up the remaining food and drink before leaving towards the room they rented. The bath should be drawn by now and he could more than use it.

No one comes to evict him, so that's a good thing. The promised bath is waiting for him as he enters the room and he's grateful. Shedding his armour with routined hands, he's naked within a few minutes. Sinking inside the water with a quiet groan, he's disappointed it's not the way he liked it. A quick Igni heats it up to a scalding temperature that makes him moan in delight. Much better. To a normal human it would be torture to being boiled alive like that. But he's no normal human, by far. He's closing his eyes to the feeling scales appearing on his skin.

There weren't many dragons left out there. They tended to be slaughtered out of fear, hunted for sport, fame and their treasures. Over the last centuries their numbers dwindled significantly, so now only a handful remained. There were green dragons as well as red ones. Some black and only the rarest sporting golden scales. And then there was him. His scales glowing white like freshly fallen snow on a cold winter day. A bastardized mutation of his own mother's black form. She knew he'd have no chance to survive in the wild, not with his unnatural features drawing everyone's eyes. So she surrender him to Vesemir as he claimed the law of surprise for his help, shaping a new path for him. 

_The witcher not killing dragons_. 

Scoffing, he pours water over his chest, rubbing off the dirt from the road and left over grime of the last contract they took. There's a strain inside his body, inside his soul that needs tending to. It's been about time they found a decent place to stay, away from prying eyes or a possible ambush.

The door opens quietly as Jaskier enters the room, trying not to disturb the calm feeling in here. There's some shuffling before he walks up to Geralt's side, sinking into a crouch. He almost looks apologetic. "Let me wash your hair."

It's not a question but an offering, knowing his actions displeased the other as he had asked him not to act. The witcher nods, accepting that the bard disappears out of sight to settle behind him. _A weakness_ , his instincts growl. _No_ , he supplies, _a token of devotion._

+++

They had come a long way from where they started. Geralt picked a contract in Redania back then, in a village near Oxenfurt and got himself a whole pack of cockatrice to fight with. He had to change form then as their number had killed him otherwise. It had left him with the foul taste of blood in his mouth and a nasty gash in his flank, stuck inside a dragon's body. Unable to return to his more human self in this condition, he tried to hide in the woods, encountering some locals on his search for a proper hideout. They fled, screaming as they always did and it made him wince. No matter if he was a dragon or a witcher - humans hated him nonetheless.

A big cave carved inside a mountain side was bearable enough to reside in. On his third day of healing, a noise outside had drawn his attention. Not in the mood to pick a fight against whoever had sought it out, he tried getting away instead. On his way out the cave he realised the uproar dying down again, so he carefully exited it to inspect what happened. Maybe they had prepared a trap to get caught up in?

It was no trap he lay his eyes on, but a sacrifice. A poor boy bound on his arms and legs, a cloth gagging his mouth that kept him from screaming too loudly, some golden jewelry adorning his body. They boy's blue eyes widened at the sight of the enormous beast, panic oozing from his pores. _Foolish humans_ , he remembered thinking. To thrust out one of theirs into certain death like that. It sickened him.

" _Don't move, little one. I mean you no harm. I will get rid of these bonds, then you are free to go._ "

His voice was even deeper than normal, like a thunder rolling on the verge of horizon. It made the human twitch and he flinched internally. The ropes gave away easily enough under his daggerlike claws, freeing the human so he could move again. He couldn't be more than an adolescent, his face still a little soft and round, his body thin and long. Chestnut coloured hair adorned his features, rounded by cornflower blue eyes. The boy was a pretty sight indeed. No wonder he was chosen to pacify the beast in the woods before it decided to wreck havoc on the villages around. Long, nimble fingers reached up to pluck the makeshift gag out of his own mouth, his eyes never leaving the dragon in front of him. He swallowed around his surely dry mouth, a small tremble still present in every movement. "Well uh… thank you…".

The dragon bent his head in return before turning around. He couldn't stay here any longer, not with the villagers aware of his existence. It wouldn't take long for them to hire a knight to slay him. Or maybe another witcher.

The boy struggled to his feet, running after him. "Wait! Where are you going? Don't leave me!". Slowing as he reached the dragon's side, he fell into an swaggery stroll, his confident appearance only betrayed by hints of nervousness in his smell. "I mean you can't expect me to go back to those people that basically shoved me out into the wild to be devoured! Not an insult to you though but n o way I will return to that flock of idiots. They will probably think I'm cursed or what do I know for a dragon rejecting me and might try to hurl me off a cliff, though there a none nearby and nuh-uh - no thank you!"

The boy kept running his mouth quicker than his feet and Geralt didn't know what to make off it. Humans weren't inclined to talk to witchers more than was necessary to get a job done. Period. But his companion kept on rambling about everything that came to his mind until the dragon stopped, looking as serious as he could. " _You cannot come with me_ ." he said, voice even and final. _It's too dangerous,_ left unsaid.

The human had the nerve to actually put both hands on his hip in a childish manner, snorting. "So what am I supposed to do? I won't go back 'home' over my dead, cold body and I'm for sure to find my death if you leave me out here. Being mauled by wild animals or monsters - or robbed and vandalized by bandits! You're not the heartless beast they said you are, so will you take the risk of leaving me to my inevitably demise?"

Geralt growled. Never before had anyone dared to corner him like that, appealing to his _humanity_ for fuck's sake! A sneer settled on his jaw, his face a scowl. " _Fine! But you'll leave at the next town or I swear, I will devour you for good_."

The boy smiled triumphantly, far too cheeky for his own good. Had he no sense of preservation?

"Sounds perfect to me! I'm Jaskier by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you and I mean it."

The dragon huffed, deflated his threats brushed off the boy like water on a duck's back. "Geralt."

Then they continued their way. They reached the town, Jaskier didn't leave. Geralt didn't devour him. He silently got Roach from the stables she stayed in after turning back to his witchery self and wondered what he got himself into.

+++

"I can hear you thinking, Geralt. It's unsettling."

A deep rumble resonated through his chest, almost a purr while skilled fingers worked his scalp. He really liked it when Jaskier washed his hair. By now the water had cooled a little, still hot but not enough to burn the human's skin as he collected some of it in his palm to lavish up the shampoo he used some more. He enjoyed being tended to, being spoilt a little from time to time. He had become too attached to the man's company over the years but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"How's your nose?" he utters, trying to sound casual but can't hide his worry while the remaining soap is rinsed from his hair, down his shoulders. It's now smelling like lavender and chamomile, nothing too strong to overpower his sensitive senses. He feels Jaskier's eye roll more than he can hear it, but the answer is full of unveiled fondness. "It's nothing really. Just a scratch. That bastard got off worse.". Arms find their way around his shoulders, pulling him backwards into a gentle hug. "They don't deserve you, not even a single speck. You risk your life to ensure their safety and all you get is ungratefulness wherever we go.". A low anger simmers under the skin of the other, born from exasperation and unwavering loyalty, his chin digging into the strong shoulder beneath.

Geralt hums quietly, turning his head enough to nuzzle the brunette's cheek. "I got you. What could I want more?". He let his voice drop even lower at the words and Jaskier shivers deliciously. A spike of arousal fills the air.

 _Good_.

"Should I prepare the nest?"

Geralt stops, thinking it over before nodding. It's time. Jaskier presses a chaste kiss to his jaw before leaving. Still mourning the loss of contact, he get backs to scrubbing his skin and scales with a bar of soap. It feels good, it always does. It's even nicer with the familiar burn of irritated wounds absent for once. After cleaning himself properly, he rises from the bath, picking up the towel next to the tub. Rubbing himself down, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the dirty mirror leaning against the wall. His bulk is rippling with suppressed strength, scars littering his body everywhere up to his face. His eyes shine unnaturally bright though the only sources of light are some candles scattered through the room. Turning away from his monstrous mirage he fixes the towel around his hip, then moves to the other part of the room where the bed is located.

Jaskier is waiting there for him, only clad in his sleeping garments. The bard made sure to collect all blankets and pillows in the room and some extras they carried, assembling them in a vague form of a nest, the bard's lute leaning closeby against the bed frame. There's more in it, he can make out. This swords and armour line the borders, his potions tugged away safely under a pillow. A bag of coin is lying on top of said cushion, besides the small vial of perfume Jaskier tends to use everyday and his witcher necklace. Some of his more comfortable clothes lie on the bottom, the bard and the golden trinkets he was once brought with nestled on top. It's a lovely sight that draws a deep, satisfied rumble out of him. His songbird. _Mine._

Blue eyes are fixed on him, half-lidded, a playful smile on rosy lips. Jaskier had never been phased by how he looked, not as he turned human for the first time. Never when his eyes turned black and his skin ash white from the witcher potions. These eyes held nothing about devotion, adoration and longing. _Love._

Arms reach out into his direction, inviting him in. "Come here you oaf, don't leave me waiting."

Not even thinking about dismissing that invitation he climbs into the bed, all but smothering the smaller form beneath him while he noses at the soft throat in front of him, taking in the scent that reminds him of home.

Geralt takes quick care of burying them under the heaps of blankets, perfectly lining up his body with the other in a well-practiced movement, enjoying their closeness. No gaps are allowed between them, not now, not ever.

Jaskier's finger pet through still wet strands of hair, smirking as he takes in the content expression of his partner. "Sometimes I could mistake you for a big cat, you know? You purr, you grumble, you like petting, you-".   
"Shut up, bard" the dragons murmurs, no bite in his words. 

He gives into the instinct of slumbering upon what he loves most, enjoyed the hoarding of his little treasure, the sound of rain against the window muffled under the covers. Sometimes he wishes they could do this more often. He never feels more safe than here.

With his love, his Jaskier. _His treasure._

**Author's Note:**

> Got some unsual prompts? Any AUs you'd like but couldn't find anywhere? Leave them in the comments!


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